A Different Kind Of Pain
by Oratorio
Summary: Hawke is the Champion of Kirkwall, but she's also still a woman and still finds herself incapacitated by the pain her own body visits upon her. In this story, she's lying in bed, suffering and cursing, and wants nothing more than for the pain to be taken away. Anders manages to oblige. Short prompt fill, LOTS of fluff.


**A/N: **Written for a prompt about period pain! An odd one, but I decided to post it here as I felt it was quite sweet. As always, all characters belong to Bioware (Much love!)

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There were times, Hawke thought, that she really wished she'd paid attention to her father when he had tried to teach her the healing spells. But no, she had been far more interested in hurting things. There was no need to worry about mending, creating. She had Bethany for that.

Bethany had always just _known _when Hawke was suffering. Had always been there with a hug and the warmth of her magic to take the pain away. Hawke was quite sure that she herself wouldn't be half the mage she was were it not for her beautiful, kind hearted younger sister. If only she had told her that, before...

No, she wouldn't go down this path again. She was in quite enough pain as it was, as if Andraste's flaming sword itself was embedded in her gut. The last thing she needed was to dredge up those particular memories.

Maker, this felt like the Arishok all over again. Spasms of fiery agony rippled through her abdomen, each wave of pain causing her to curl herself tighter into a foetal ball and bite the pillow violently. It felt like something malignant was alive inside her, twisting her intestines into plaits before tugging on them, playground-style. _Well, demons like blood. Perhaps I've got one in me right now. Feels that way._

She didn't even have the energy to go and get a drink of water from the kitchen downstairs, even though her mouth was dry and her head hurt. Bodahn would have brought her a glass, but she really didn't want the dwarf to see her in this state. Eventually, she knew, this would pass. _Just give it... a day or two. _She groaned.

She was fantasising about tearing out her own innards and wondering if it would be inappropriate to ask Fenris to help when a knock on her bedroom door brought her back to her senses.

"Who is it?" Even her voice sounded weak, cracked from dehydration.

"It's only me," Anders poked his blond head around the doorframe. "You weren't at Wicked Grace tonight, I was worried."

"Oh, Anders! Thank the Maker. I..." Hawke's voice trailed off as another burst of pain ripped through her, and she screwed her face up, tears squeezing from her eyes.

Anders hurried over to the bed, brows knitted in a frown of concern.

"You're hurt? Love, what's the matter?"

"Nothing... really. Nothing that slowly torturing the Maker himself wouldn't cure."

"The Maker? What?" Anders sat down on the bed and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Marian, you're sweating. What's going on?"

"The Maker is a man, of course! Why would he care about his stupid design faults?" Hawke's face was twisting in a parody of what she felt was going on inside her. She reached out for Anders' hand and gripped it hard, hissing as her womb contracted sharply.

A look of sudden understanding spread over Anders' face and he swung his legs up on to the bed and curled himself around her.

"Oh, Marian," he murmured into her ear, "my love. You look exhausted. Come here."

She rolled into his arms with a sigh and he planted kisses on her damp forehead. It was so unlike her to show any weakness, he thought, that she must be in a lot of pain. Physical pain was something he knew about, something he could fix.

His arms encircled her waist as he closed his eyes and concentrated on sending a stream of healing energy into her body. Warmth grew between them and the room lit with an ethereal green glow. She sighed and shifted in his arms as the cramps in her belly loosened and tension flooded out of her muscles. The relief was overwhelming and she whimpered at the feeling of the pain dissipating, her body relaxing.

She turned her face to his, shining with the glow of his own magic and beautiful in the half-light. She felt her heart swell with love for the healer, and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Thank you."

Anders smiled and pulled her tighter until she was enveloped in his heat, the smell of him surrounding her like a blanket - herbs and cotton and soap. Her arms wrapped around his waist, too thin under the bulk of his coat. It was usually she who fretted and tried to take care of him. It felt a bit strange to be the one being looked after, but she was grateful for it and knew it pleased him to feel needed.

She snuggled deep into his arms, felt him kiss the top of her head lightly and whisper her name. She had never felt loved like this before, the way he could make her feel like the only person in the world even when they were surrounded by noise, by chaos. He had told her time and again that he would hurt her but so far all he had done was heal her, her physical wounds and her emotional scars.

"You need to rest, my love. I'll still be here when you wake, and then I'll draw you a hot bath," he said, his voice soft and full of warmth.

"Anders. I love you so much," she murmured, eyes heavy and swimming into the Fade.

He kissed her hair again. "And I love you. More than you'll ever know. Always remember that."

She smiled in her sleep.


End file.
